


Damn Lucky

by twelvepercentofaplan



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, NEEEERD, Not compliant with Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, POV First Person, Peter's Perspective, Psssst, Star-Lord's a nerd that loves everybody, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 12:56:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3068786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelvepercentofaplan/pseuds/twelvepercentofaplan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been six months (in a Terran year, of course) since the Guardians of the Galaxy first formed. On a quick pit stop for fuel, Peter finds himself wandering about the same place where he and Gamora first encountered one another, where Rocket and Groot tried to tag him and bag him for Yondu's bounty.</p><p>And once he gets his gaze fixated on the fountain, he can't help but drift off and daydream about how important it is that they all came into his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damn Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> First person POV is fun. I really think I'm better at it than anything else even though this thing sucks dick.
> 
> Point is, it's the New Year. Almost. And so I wanted to write something in celebration. And since I know these guys aren't about to celebrate that holiday since they are up in space, I went with this idea.
> 
> The concept was brought up by yornma, who said if I were to do a Christmas story or something of the sort, it should be about Peter looking back on how far they've come. I liked the concept, so I typed it up in an hour just now. Just finished it at 4:30 in the morning... Sheesh. Nocturnal animal over here!
> 
> It really delves more into what every other character means to Peter, honestly. But I like how it came out. He gets all mushy-gushy over everyone individually.
> 
> No relationships, 'sides what they all mean to one another now since they're kinda a big, stupid family now.
> 
> ALSO: This has little to no connection to my ongoing, Rocket centered anthology/one-shot collection, "Thanks for the Armories."
> 
> Shout-out to HopelesslyLost and yornma just because I'm a great guy. Hope you both had awesome holidays and Happy New Year t' ya both!

**_Damn Lucky_ **

****

_‘The universe has a wonderful sense of humor. The trick is learning how to take a joke.’_

* * *

 

It’s really weird how we all got together, really. And I tend to dwell on it day after day after day, and today is no different. Same old thoughts, same old admiration. But there’s somethin’ just a little bit different about this particular incident. In fact, it’s almost as if I’m being tossed back in time to that exact place where I’d met a good three-fourths of my newfound team.

I’m standing back on Xandar, the three suns blazing high in the sky, weather clear as day and as warm as ever. This particular area, a sort of “outside mall” being the only way I can truly describe it in “Terran terms”, is as bustling and rushed feeling as usual. A Centurian man I nearly mistake for a certain Ravager rushes by rapidly, two pink chicks (fine booties-not sorry) strut by talking about their boyfriends (dammit), and a human mother holds her toddler son’s hand in attempt to keep his balance a little better. That last one makes me smile like a doofus to myself...

But not because the kid’s cute. Because Rocket’s snide comment that he hasn’t even made, since I’m standing here in this crowd alone, still rings in my head. “Loser needs to hold his mommy’s hand. Fuckin’ dumb.”

I don’t know why I was drawn to bring us here, really. We had to stop for fuel, a smaller, less appealing planet by the name of Hala just near Xandar and within closer range. But I insisted, saying I knew the area well and that it’d be faster. And so Drax offered to go off and refuel the ship for us. Rocket forced Groot to go off and do… something. The little dude never really elaborates with me, really. He’ll just wave his hand and say, “Yeah, yeah. I got my business, you got yours. Got it? Don’t ask questions.”

I honestly don’t understand **_how_** Groot got so far along with him.

Gamora’s off doing who knows what. I honestly don’t remember what she’d said to me, but I do remember her saying something about… yeah, I really don’t know what she said. I kinda tuned her out once we got here. Probably going to tail Rocket and be sure he’s not, y’know, stealing as many freaking random, useless items he needs like the last time we stopped somewhere like this.

And so here I am, standing in a crowd filled with nusy people, dumbstruck by a sight that really shouldn’t be all that shocking to anyone. It’s a simple thing to see, fairly common, although they don’t tend to pop up everywhere you may go. I mean, they’re all over Xandar, but Morag? Well, technically, yeah, they’re there, but they’re not man made and not as pretty. Damn scary, I’ll admit. Geysers like that shootin’ up outta nowhere make me piss in my pants just a tiny bit.

And that simple thing I’m referring to is a water fountain. The one that I’d slammed Gamora into with my trusty jet-boot attachment.

I really should apologize for that.

But seeing the water cascade and pool in a glorious, shimmering formation took me back to that first day that was six months ago. Well, I say six months, since I tend to lay back on Terran time keeping in that way. Cycle’s are a tad longer. But I count years as real time. Why? Because I can. I mean, duh. Star-Lord over here.

The idea that I, Peter Jason Quill (the Legendary Star-Lord, thank you very much) managed to save an entire galaxy from a threat triggered just by doing one tiny act of snatch-and-grab on Morag, bringing it back here, getting kicked in the stomach by the most badass woman I’ve ever met, being nearly taken in for a bounty by a tree and a talking raccoon is… explosive. Mind blowing. It’s insane.

Honestly, it doesn’t look all that simple now that I’m looking at it. But life never really is simple for me, is it? Never was, actually.

See, when you get abducted at the age of eight years old right after your mother dies of disease, your life is bound to spiral out of control. Of course, no one else really knows what that’s like. I mean, child abductions happen all the time throughout the entire galaxy. Rocket and I just prevented one yesterday, actually. Mostly him. He blew the dude’s kneecaps off when I really just wanted the guy… erm, **_subdued_**. And he was, but I didn’t really want to traumatize the kid. Bones popping and blood aren’t exactly rated G. But alien abductions? Yeah, about those...

Actually, those happen now and then too. But for a not-so-advanced planet like Earth, it’s not exactly common. See, we’re just outside of that range of “technologically advanced enough to have a thousand spaceship armada.” At least that’s what I’ve heard from drifters who’ve gone there, completely without any human presence taking notice, which I find to be unusual. Nonetheless, all of this advanced technology and varying species of people is actually what we’d call “Comic Book Stuff” or science fiction.

Oh, comic book stuff. I miss those for sure. We’ve got similar magazines, although digital, but they’re usually about household drama and comedic situations. There aren’t any superheroes dressed in tights or anything. There’s not even a Captain America, man. He was a real… something. I remember being younger and hearing about him back in World War II and thinking, “Yeah. I wanna be that guy.”

Well, well, well. I guess I’m the space version of Captain America, than.

Star-Lord sounds cooler.

I consider going back home all the time. I wanna see the sights. I wanna see my old house. I wanna see where the hell the music’s going and what’s popular and if Michael Jackson’s still kickin’. I wanna show the crew movies like ‘Footloose’ and ‘Predator’ and even that crappy ‘Friday the 13th’ shit. I wanna to go back to the days where I could make a reference to one of those movies and I wasn’t given a response such as “Is that another legend from your home planet, Peter?” on Gamora’s part, a semi-interested “I am Groot?” on Groot’s part, something along the lines of “Does this story revolve around the outlaws of your planet?” from Drax or “No one gives two shits, Quill. Shut your mouth with the Terran crap,” from Rocket.

Oh, loud, obnoxious Rocket. You’re from Earth, you big idiot.

Where was I going with-oh! Yeah, yeah, I remember now.

My thoughts get back on track as I look around slowly, a slightly nostalgic feeling coming onto my shoulders. Gamora got thrown right into that fountain right there, and it was probably not my best idea ever.

Gamora.

The universe is rather large, I’d say. But that’s just a guess. It could really be just a tiny science project on some alien kid’s shelf. But let’s just assume it’s large coz that’s what I do, right? So I think I had a real stroke of luck managing to get my ass whooped by her only to later have her join my team of… we’re not really a team of anything. I mean, I’m Space Captain America and all, but… let’s forget that, actually, the Space Captain America thing.

She’s a woman I’m glad to have on our side. One ass beating is enough. Not only that I’d rather not get my groin kicked in by her, she makes for a great companion, whether it be battle or travelling. She’s willing to try new things, especially when it comes to the music I have. She’s asked me time and time again as we sit up in the cockpit as we travel wherever about this song, that song, if I can replay this one because the melody is soothing to her.

She’s danced in the past, too. It was late on the Milano, and I was in the cockpit waiting for the ship to slide into the docking bay to retrieve the pay from our next job. Rocket’s passed out in the seat next to me, snoring up a storm, and Groot and Drax are at the table down below playing some sort of card game they’d picked up from somewhere.

I get up to head back toward a room on this second level to retrieve my Walkman, only to find that she’s got it and she’s tapping her foot to the beat. And then she starts doing some awkward, hilarious arm wiggle and bobs her head. And Gamora’s actually smiling as she does it. But only for a split second, because it fades when she sees me standing there with my jaw smacking the floor.

And then we laughed it off together because we both know we look ridiculous dancing.

But she’s not always all fun and games. Not to say Gamora is constantly pissed off and serious, but she is a confident, mature woman, I’d say. I mean, dick jokes are funny to me and me only now and than. I completely understand when she slaps me across the face. Or when Drax says something particularly naive, especially when it’s along the lines of “I wasn’t listening, I was thinking of something else”, she will get into ‘scolding parent mode’ as Rocket’s called it now and then. And he knows it well, too.

There are days where you can tell she simply can’t take us too seriously, and she’ll laugh at Rocket electrocuting his hand as he screws with the components for the Milano’s newly installed speakers or the awful jokes I make toward her, whether they be completely innocent sexual passes or downright awful puns. Gamora’ll give me an exasperated sound of annoyance and tell Rocket “Don’t burn the room down. We live here, idiot.” Of course, it’s all in good fun, and I don’t end up ticked off in the slightest. Rocket does, because he’s a big, fluffy, angry ball of anger with a ringed tail.

She’s kind of the Mother of the Milano. And it’s a good thing we’ve got one of those.

I’m lucky I got her.

And I guess I’m the Father of the Milano since I’m kind of, you know, the leader in all of this. Or Drax, since he has had that title once before.

Speaking of Drax...

Drax the Destroyer’s a good pal. A little intimidating at first sight, but I’m a fearless guy. Remember the Kyln? Yeah, that was just Peter Quill being incredibly heroic.

Gamora would slap me for that, too, if she could hear me thinking.

And Drax probably would too, really. He’s a bit quiet when it comes to sparking up a conversation, his tone and word choice very formal but at the same time real chill. He makes his presence known with his enormous steps from his boots echoing throughout the Milano. The lug doesn’t mean to step down so hard, and we all know it, but we can tell where he is just by him taking a single step.

He’s a deadly ass combatant, too. I’ve seen basically everything the man can pull off, and _**WOO**_! Asskickery at its finest. Drax’s dual knives are absolutely lethal in the hands of anyone else, but give them to him, and everyone else that opposes him should just lay down their weapons and walk the hell back home. But Drax wouldn’t even give them time to surrender. He’d cut their heads clean off.

And the best part about this hardened, threatening, formal man full of tattoos is that he’s never really all that… bright. Drax isn’t dumb, not in the slightest. In fact, he’s quite intelligent. It’s that literal thing he’s got going on. I can say something like, “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” to Gamora just for laughs to inquire on how her day is, and he can respond with, “Gamora does not cook, Friend Quill. There is nothing cooking in the cockpit.”

And we all laugh, but not at Drax’s expense. Well, Rocket probably does. But I usually explain to him what the metaphor is and all that. He’s quite the chef, too, speaking of cooking. Seriously. The first time he cooked for us, one of the earlier days where Groot was still in his pot, we all were in shock. We didn’t even care what we were eating. Hell, it could’ve been a human being or an A’skavarian and we all still would’ve chomped down like mad wolves hunting a rabbit.

Wait… maybe it was an A’skavarian…

Nah, it wasn’t. I hope.

Wait… was it?

Anyways, I didn’t expect Drax to stay with us by the end of this. I assumed he would continue his quest across the galaxy to destroy Thanos, but here he is now. When I’d heard his wife and daughter had been killed by Ronan, I felt a strange twinge of genuine pain hit me. Ouch. It’s kind of the exact opposite of my entire ordeal. While I was the kid dealing with the loss of his mother, he was the father agonizing over the loss of his daughter and his wife. I connect to that sort of thing, as mushy-gushy as it sounds.

And I knew he was someone to trust when he agreed to join me on our suicide mission to destroy Ronan. I swear, if this was a movie and I was watching it, the bit where he’d said “And in the end… see my wife and daughter again” probably would have hit me like a sack of rocks and made me cry for three years.

Heh. Pretty lucky I got him, too.

Drax is more of the muscle to our schemes, although he does assist in the plan making like the rest of us. I… I don’t really have a spot for him, really. If me and Gamora are the Milano’s parents, then he’s…

Nah, we don’t need titles. They’re stupid, labelling us to be something we are. And I really don’t want to feel obligated, because the only spot left for Groot and Rocket would be the kids.

And they’re a handful, just like kids should be.

Groot’s a little… What is Groot? I mean, I understand he’s a plant, a flora colossus as Rocket’s information has come to inform me time and time again, but what even is he? Drax is naive in the way of customs from other planets and the like. But Groot’s innocent. Like, completely innocent. The number of times he’s handed flowers out to people on the street goes beyond the amount of times Rocket’s committed arson (22, I do believe) combined with his counts of vehicular theft (probably around a billion and six.)

And I’m only confused because he’s a hundred percent deadly as much as he’s a hundred percent sweet! Those vines can do some serious damage. He’s got the strength of Drax and the ability to grow frickin’ plants out of his body. Like, holy shit. What the hell is this monster of a badass? I mean, the guy’s still more of a lover than a fighter, but when it comes to fighting, Groot whoops ass.

But at the end of the day, Groot’s still Groot. And Groot is…

Groot’s…

Shit, what’s the…?

Groot’s **_selfless_**. Yep. That’s it. That’s the word I’m looking for.

Groot’s sacrificed things even I wouldn’t give up in a thousand years. Now I’m not entirely sure how he and Rocket had met, but I know Groot wouldn’t throw whatever life he’d had away for just anybody. There’s something between them I don’t understand, and Rocket’s not the type of guy to let that sort of personal, deep, dark information out, even though we’re all basically best friends now. There had to be something about Rocket that Groot knew he needed… A friend? Probably. I mean, Rocket’s kind aren’t exactly… populous around here.

Heh. Groot’s a great guy.

I guess we all got lucky with Groot, right? I mean, he’d given his life to save us on Xandar, although he should have only been saving Rocket.

Seriously, I can’t even describe how awful I’d felt once I realized that was happening. Here’s Groot giving his life for us and I’ve barely known the guy for a whole week. A day at most, maybe a day and a half? And Rocket crying, man. Damn, that hurt, let me tell you that…

And there he is. Finally. Rocket.

Trigger-happy, angry, sarcastic, quick-tongued, loud, but a freaking genius. Rocket’s the tactical expert, the weapon specialist, all that. I don’t exactly appreciate having my ship torn apart to create bombs and the like, but seeing them in action is always a treat I look forward to on our missions. His piloting is unmatched, although all of us are fully capable of it. But dogfights in space? He’s got us covered. And the look of wicked satisfaction that crosses his face when he pulls the triggers and his target is blown to bits spreads that satisfaction through us like a quick, deadly virus.

Rocket’s a happy guy, but in his own definition of the word. He’s not singing a Michael Jackson song while dancing without any pants on or laughing at a romantic comedy (I don’t do either of these things, not at all.) He’s happy building guns, he’s happy when he hits a target, he’s happy when he manages to outwit someone with ease. He’s happy when he’s got a grin on his sharp teeth, and that’s always a nice thing to see from someone like him.

Let me tell you, I never expected to be best friends with a _**raccoon**_ , let alone Rocket. Of all the raccoons on Earth, how is it that I managed to get stuck (not in a bad way, either) with one that talks, shoots guns, curses every five seconds, and still manages to be a good friend to all of us? Sure, he’s a little on the sarcastic side, his assholery shining through all that fluffy fur and perky ears. But I kind of look at him as that younger brother I didn’t have. Even though he’s not human. And he’s not exactly an animal either. He’s just… a person.

It took me a minute to realize that this Rocket wasn’t just a figment of my imagination, a thrown out Disney character, or a joke when we’d first met in the Kyln. But whenever he’d been pushed into that room to change, naked, and I saw what was in his back, I realized something wasn’t right with him. Not to say there’s anything wrong with him, but that Rocket wasn’t meant to exist like he does. He wasn’t meant to walk on two legs and spit bitter words and shoot guns and translate a giant tree for anyone.

He was supposed to just be an animal on Earth, doing whatever it is raccoons do in their time on said planet.

And after his drunken speech in the bar, I really wanted to just… I don’t know what I wanted to do. I just understand it. “I didn’t ask to be torn apart and put back together over and over, turned into some…” Jeez, I can’t even bring the thought to my brain. It hurts to see Rocket with tears in his eyes as he growls the last words that just really hurt me to hear. “Some little monster!”

I didn’t ask to be taken off of Earth. I didn’t ask for Yondu to just take me like I was cargo only to raise me up to be one of his own. I wasn’t meant to be this. I wasn’t meant to be the man I am today. I was probably meant to have a job as an accountant or lawyer or something after I lived with grandpa for a bit before going off to college and all that.

I mean… that’s not lucky for either of us. On Rocket’s part, he wasn’t lucky to be chosen as Halfworld’s labrat. On my part, I wasn’t lucky to be picked up by Yondu and a bunch of Ravagers, taken away from my family and turned into who I am today.

But getting to know Rocket, and vice versa? Yeah, that’s lucky as hell for the both of us. Hell, all of us getting to know each other was lucky? And ya wanna know why?

None of us, not Rocket, not Groot, not Drax, not Gamora, and not me, asked to be put together like this. It just sort of happened.

And I’m damn glad it did, too. I was alone beforehand, and these guys? Yeah, they were too. Gamora was a conflicted individual who just needed to get away from Thanos. Drax was a lonely, revenge-crusading man who was stuck up in prison for slaying dozens of Ronan’s bitches. Rocket and Groot had each other, but Groot’s alone in his own way and Rocket’s got absolutely nothing like himself in the universe. And that’s sad, really, for all of us. We’re all not like something in the universe.

And none of them wanna admit it, but we do **_need_** one another.

“Quill? The hell ya **_doin_ '**?” a sharp voice rings out, dragging me out of my dazed state of mind. I’m thrust back to Xandar, my eyes still gaping at the water fountain.

I turn around rather quickly, only to be greeted by a being nearly three feet tall with a tail swinging back and forth like it’s got an itch. Rocket stands there with his arms dangling loosely at his sides, looking confused at me. “I, uh… um,” I stutter, not able to form a sentence, tripping over all of the words that scramble about my head. Panicking at the water fountain. Good job, Pete.

“It’s not like I caught ya wackin’ off and creamin’ your pants or somethin’ like-”

“Rocket, please.” For whatever reason, I hadn’t even acknowledged the green assassin on Rocket’s right. Gamora looks down with a look of disgust. “Must you really be so explicit?”

“Must you really be my mom ‘bout it?” Rocket mocks.

I snicker slightly, my glance flicking from Rocket to Gamora quickly. “Are we ready to go?” I ask.

“Yes. The ship is fueled,” Gamora says with a curt nod. “But I have one last business matter to take care of.”

“Gross,” Rocket moans. “All’a the business ya got’s boring, greeny. Look, I’m gonna go back t’ our hunk ‘a shit ship, alright? Don’t be too stupid, lovebirds!” And the raccoon trots off.

“Why was he with you?” I ask as Gamora and I turn back to the fountain.

“You sound jealous,” Gamora says with a tiny smirk. “We simply ran into one another on our personal endeavors. I’ve passed through this area many times now, and yet you’re still standing here.”

I shrug. “Yeah? So?” I say dismissively. “Don’t you have a business matter to deal with or something?”

“This is my business. Right here. I just wanted Rocket out of the way.” Understandable. He does get a little obnoxious and eavesdrops every now and then. But he can't help it with those hyper-sensitive ears he's got. “Why are you staring at this fountain?” Gamora gestures with a wave of her hand. “I was concerned for your well being. You seemed… tense.”

“Oh,” I begin, speaking as if it’s an easy thing to explain. “Well, I was just… this is where me and you kind of… got wet-I didn’t mean that, shit, sorry.”

I ignore Gamora’s squinty-eyed look as I continue, “This is where you and I met one another. And where Rocket and Groot tried to steal me. And then we went to the Kyln and-”  
“I was there, Peter,” Gamora responds. “I know the story. Why are you dwelling on that?”

“Because it’s been half a year with you guys.”  
“Half a… year?”

I nod. “Yeah, a year. As in six months. Years are how Terra’s calendar works. They’re made up of twelve months and we’ve all been together now for at least six, yeah?”

Gamora gives a tilt of her head and a nod. “I understand. Is it meant to be an event?”

“It could be,” I say. “I was just thinking about it and… you know? I mean, how’d we get here?”

“Through you dancing,” Gamora says, and we share a laugh. “But to answer your question seriously, it really was you in a sense.”

I give her a somewhat inquisitive look. “Really? I mean, are we sure?”  
“Yes,” she affirms. “You’re this team’s… what’s the word? This team’s link, I’d say. All of us had a connection with you and that connection brought us together. Had you not been there…” Gamora shrugs. “I’m not sure where we’d be.”  
If Rocket were here, he’d gag himself. If Groot were here, he’d pull us into a group hug. If Drax were here, he’d find some way to ease his way into the conversation and agree wholeheartedly with Gamora.

“Yeah,” I say, “guess you’re right.”

And with one last glance at the fountain, I head on back to the Milano with Gamora at my side, my thoughts still dwelling on this big, stupid family I’ve pulled together in the past six months.

It’s really weird how we all got together, really. And I tend to dwell on it day after day after day, and today is no different. It’s just another day of realizing how much I love these guys, how badly I never knew I’d needed them in my life. Loneliness is a path I’d rather not tread on again. I need Gamora’s occasional guidance and her belief that this team is going to work out for the better. I need Rocket so I have someone to have a few drinks with, someone to relate to, someone to give the mantle of leader to in case I’m unavailable. I need Drax’s constant confusion to make me laugh, his unwavering honor to fight beside me no matter what we’re all dealing with. I need Groot because… he is Groot. **_Every_** team needs a Groot.

And we’ve got one. The best one.

We’ve got a walking tree with a heart of gold, a technical genius who happens to be a raccoon, a man with brute strength and a passion to destroy anything that harms any of us, the most dangerous woman in the galaxy who keeps the order around the ship, and me.

And I really can’t help but feel so damn happy for myself. It’s good to have a family again, even though we all butt heads and get on one another’s nerves. I never thought I’d get it after all these years. I never thought I’d find a place where I felt at home, safe, with other people around that care about me, even though they might not always seem like they do.

It’s a second chance at life for me. And-

Well, not just me.

It’s a second chance for _**all of us**_.

And we’re all just pretty damn lucky we got it.

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't have much else to say, honestly. Usually I ramble on and on in these notes, but I got nothin' tonight.
> 
> So (early) Happy New Year and I hope it's been a good one. Comments are appreciated.


End file.
